


Damage

by petofi



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: Brain Damage, Disability, Friendship, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Learning to Work Together, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-13
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:34:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29406999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/petofi/pseuds/petofi
Summary: From the Cobra Kai kink meme:Johnny's got dumb blond written all over him, but what if there's more to it? Daniel finds out Johnny has brain damage and deals with persistent migraines.Link toprompt.
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso & Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 24
Kudos: 81





	Damage

**Author's Note:**

> I was on the kink meme posting the link to another fill when I saw that it's a fill-a-thon week. So I said "challenge accepted!" and wrote this. I did internet research on traumatic brain injuries, brain damage, and migraines, so hopefully it reads as believable. I also tried to match how Johnny's canon behavior could reflect brain damage (it aligns surprisingly well.)
> 
> Note: There is one line in which Johnny makes an mildly insensitive remark referring to mental disability.

There was something... different... about Johnny. Daniel wouldn’t go so far as to say that there was something wrong with him. Nothing that a little sensitivity training couldn’t resolve, at any rate. Still, Johnny was different. 

Take paperwork, for example. Johnny could not organize paperwork. 

Daniel sat with a neat and orderly pile at his elbow and frowned at Johnny’s scattered mess across the table. They were in the kitchen at Miyagi-Do attempting to file their joint dojo as a business. Johnny kept losing forms.

“Wait, it’s that one with the tiny print at the bottom, right?” he shoved through the mess, pulling out pages at random. Daniel rubbed a hand across his forehead.

“There!” he glimpsed the correct form as Johnny unburied it. He shot his hand out to grab it and pull it to the safety of his side of the table. 

“What is all this stuff, anyway?” Johnny asked. He swept the rest of his papers to either side, clearing a space down the middle like he was parting the Red Sea. Daniel cringed. This was going to take hours. The worst part was that Johnny wasn’t trying to be obnoxious, he just wasn’t getting it. He seemed capable of processing only half of what Daniel told him. So Daniel once more explained the tax codes and how the bookkeeping would work and why he had chosen to go with Property & Liability Insurance rather than just General Liability Insurance. A little crease formed between Johnny’s eyebrows as he tried to follow along. Daniel tried breaking the explanations down into simpler terms, but Johnny just shook his head in frustration. 

“Just tell me what to sign,” he grumped. 

By then they were both becoming annoyed with each other, not just with the paperwork. Daniel huffed. “If we’re running this together, then we’re partners. That means an equal share of the work.”

“Yeah, so you can do the paperwork, and I’ll do the other work. Mow the lawn, fix the equipment. I’ll clean the fucking pond.”

“You had your own business,” Daniel pressed his fingers to his temples in exasperation. “How did you ever manage that?”

“I didn’t have these stupid waivers and insurance and shit. A lot less of these bullshit papers when it’s a handshake deal,” Johnny held up a pile of papers in his clenched fist.

“Handshake deals are not going to cut it. That’s how you lost Cobra Kai,” Daniel muttered. He pulled out one of the forms and said, “Sign this one at the bottom,” and before he handed the paper over he even circled the line where Johnny’s signature needed to go. There, simple. Just like Johnny. 

He began to sort through the stack. At this rate it would be faster to just have Johnny sign everything and Daniel could fill it out later. Across the table Johnny put his pen to the paper and tried to sign. No ink came out. He shook the pen and then grabbed a crumpled form to scribble on the back of. He scribbled a bit and the ink started to flow. He kept scribbling. And scribbling. The lines became more frantic and aggressive, turning darker as Johnny gripped the pen tighter and pushed harder into the paper. 

“Johnny!”

The pen skittered. It shot off the paper like it was pulling Johnny’s hand with it and streaked a line of blue ink across the tabletop.

“Shit!” Johnny seemed taken back by his own actions. He let go of the pen and dropped his hand to dangle at his side. The damage had been unintentional, but as Daniel looked at the blue mark marring Mr. Miyagi’s old table he felt the day’s irritations flare up into a tight ball of anger.

“What the hell, Johnny! What is wrong with you?”

“It was an accident,” Johnny stood, immediately on the defensive. He cleared the papers away with a sweep of his hand and they scattered to Daniel’s side of the table and onto the floor. He rubbed at the mark with his finger. 

“What were you even doing? The pen worked! All you needed to do was sign a piece of paper and instead you ruined Mr. Miyagi’s table!”

“It didn’t damage the wood, just left a mark. Calm down, LaRusso! Don’t be such an asshole about it.”

“Right, I’m the asshole,” Daniel said sarcastically. He began to gather up the piles of forms and insurance packets. “I’m not the one with impulse control issues and a history of vandalism.”

“You want an apology, fine. I’m sorry. I’ll sand it down and fix it.” Johnny didn’t sound sorry, just belligerent. 

Daniel shoved all the paperwork into his briefcase and snapped it shut. “I thought we could make this work, but I don’t know how we’re going to run a dojo together if you can’t help out with even simple tasks.”

“I don’t know how we’re going to work together if you’re always bitching at me,” Johnny crossed his arms over his chest.

“I think we’re done for the day,” Daniel said. He motioned Johnny out of the house. He locked up behind them, rethinking his intention of getting a key made for Johnny. They both got into their cars and drove away without another word spoken between them that day.

*

Johnny wasn’t great at appointments, either. 

Daniel texted the morning of the All Valley Tournament Committee meeting to confirm that Johnny would be there. No response. He texted at lunch, a gentle reminder that Johnny was supposed to be there. No response. He texted before the meeting, with a _You’d better fucking be there_. No response. 

The meeting started. The meeting ended. No Johnny.

At 9:18pm Daniel was banging on Johnny’s door determined to get an explanation. The front window was dark, but Johnny’s car was in its parking space. 

“Johnny!” Daniel shouted in the tone his kids knew was a last warning and they’d better make a show of contrition real fast. He banged on the door again, harder, and it seemed to do the trick. The door opened just a bit and Daniel pushed his way in. The apartment was dark, the only light spilling in from the lights in the courtyard. Johnny cringed away, shielding his eyes.

“Close the door,” he croaked. 

“Let me get a light on first,” Daniel felt along the wall for a switch but stopped when Johnny let out a pained sound.

“No! No light.” He shrunk further into the shadows. 

Daniel closed the door a little, but kept it open just enough so that he could still see. Johnny was dressed only in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. He held himself stiffly, his face in a grimace as he covered his eyes with one hand and massaged his forehead with the other. Daniel’s anger fled as he realized that Johnny probably had a pretty good excuse for ignoring him all day.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, quiet now; gentle. He closed the door so just a crack of light filtered in and waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim room. 

“Headache,” Johnny groaned as he shuffled further into the apartment. 

“A migraine?” Daniel asked.

“Chicks get migraines.” 

Daniel sighed and closed the door all the way. His eyes were semi-adjusted, but with the door closed the whole apartment was bathed in black. The blinds were shut tight across the window, letting nothing peek through. To compensate he turned the on the flashlight on his phone and held it down so that it shone on the ground and offered only a dim circle of light, just enough for Daniel to make out the shapes of the furniture and Johnny’s dark figure. 

“What do you want?” Johnny asked. He sounded exhausted and strained and close to breaking. Had he been like this all day? 

Well, now Daniel felt bad about his initial anger, though in his defense he didn’t know all the facts and Johnny had a history of being unreliable. Still, he owed Johnny an explanation for barging in like this.

“It was the All Valley meeting tonight,” he explained. “The one you said you’d attend. I’ve been texting reminders all day.”

“Didn’t check my phone.”

“Yeah,” Daniel stepped closer. His downturned flashlight illuminated Johnny’s bare feet and calves and threw up just enough light for Daniel to see his face. His eyes were closed, his skin looked pale and gray and Daniel didn’t think it was just an effect of the low light. He reached out to put a hand on Johnny’s shoulder. “What do you need?”

“Huh?”

“What will help with this... headache? What can I do?”

“Nothing. Just wait for it to go away.”

“There must be something–“

“I’m gonna lie down,” Johnny interrupted and slowly stumbled down the hall to the bedroom. “Lock the door behind you.”

He disappeared into the shadows, but Daniel could hear him stumble into something, probably the bedroom door, and the pained whimper that followed. Like hell Daniel was leaving. He locked the door, but he was still on the inside when he did. He held up his phone and did an internet search for migraine remedies. 

A few minutes later he had a glass of water in hand as he made his careful way to the hall and felt along the wall for the door to the bedroom. Having no idea what the layout of the room looked like, he had to hold up his flashlight and take a quick look around. Johnny gasped and squeezed his eyes shut as the light swept over his curled up form on the bed. There was a clear path from the door to the bed, so Daniel turned out the light and stepped gingerly through the dark until his knee touched the edge of the mattress. 

“I brought water,” he said quietly. “You need to stay hydrated.”

“Why... you still here?” Johnny groaned. 

Daniel felt along the bed until his hand hit the solid mass of Johnny’s arm. He followed from bicep to forearm and put the glass in Johnny’s hand. 

“Drink this. It’ll help. Have you taken painkillers?”

“Yeah.”

There was the rustle of sheets as Johnny sat up. He pulled the glass away and drank. When he finished he lay down again, but didn’t hand the glass back to Daniel. Daniel felt along the bed to find it. His hand brushed against a crinkly bag. He prodded at it as he tried to figure out what it was. A bag of thawed vegetables? WebMD had mentioned that cold compresses could help, the cooling sensation reducing the pain. Johnny must have pulled the bag out of his freezer earlier, but it was warm now. 

“I’ll be right back,” he whispered. 

Johnny didn’t have much in the fridge. The freezer was a little more stocked since he seemed to live on frozen dinners and microwavable meals. Daniel grabbed the bag of frozen peas and returned to the bedroom. 

“I’m going to sit with you, okay?” he said as he put one knee on the mattress. 

“Huh?” Johnny sounded more exhausted than confused, like he wasn’t processing Daniel’s words. Daniel ran his hand across the sheets until he found Johnny’s body. He slowly sat at the head of the bed, back leaned against the wall. He ran his hand down Johnny’s back soothingly as he gently prodded him to shift and lay his head on a pillow against Daniel’s leg. Johnny settled without much fuss, probably too wiped out by the migraine to have much concern over what was happening around him. With one hand Daniel held the bag of peas to Johnny’s forehead, with the other he rubbed up and down Johnny’s back. 

“Just relax,” he whispered. He moved his hand up and pressed his fingers to massage the back of Johnny’s skull. Johnny let out a long sigh. “Is this helping?”

“Yeah,” came the reply so quiet that Daniel almost missed it. His fingers kept rubbing at Johnny’s head, little circles with light pressure; the way Amanda liked it when she was feeling stressed. 

Just beyond Johnny’s ear, Daniel felt a strange ridge in the skin. He followed it up with his fingers; a line of slightly raised skin. A scar. He filed it away for later questioning. For the moment he just continued to sit in the dark and wait for the tension to go out of Johnny’s body. 

He sat there until the peas were thawed and his fingers were cramping. Johnny had relaxed incrementally and finally seemed to fall asleep. His breathing was deep and he didn’t stir as Daniel very carefully inched to the edge of the bed and stood. 

He locked the door behind him as he made his way out.

*

There were no traces of the migraine in Johnny’s demeanor the next afternoon. He showed up at Miyagi-Do the usual half hour before the lesson to help Daniel set up. 

“Feeling better?” Daniel asked. He didn’t want to just brush this off. He needed to know these things about Johnny if they were going to work together. Less misunderstandings that way. 

“Yeah, fine,” Johnny grunted. “I slept if off, so... thanks, I guess.”

“Do you get headaches like that a lot?”

“Nah. Like, once a month. Some aren’t that bad.”

“Once a month? That’s chronic. Have you seen a doctor?”

“Jeez, LaRusso, don’t freak out. It’s under control. It’s just from when I fell off a ladder at work,” Johnny shrugged. “They had to take me to the hospital. Do some surgery.”

“Wait, you fell off a ladder and hurt your head?” Daniel thought about the scar he’d felt last night, invisible under Johnny’s hair. “When was this?”

“Oh, ninety-six, maybe. They said it was a–“ Johnny scrunched up his face as he tried to remember. “a compound skull fracture. Tore the skin open on a rock and broke the bone. It sucked. I didn’t even get worker’s comp because the job was under the table. I was just doing it as a favor to my old boss.”

“Johnny, that’s a traumatic brain injury,” Daniel said in shock. “You could have died! You could have gone into a coma.”

“I recovered,” Johnny countered. “Mostly. They said there might be long term effects.” He hunched his shoulders and looked away. “Like my brain sort of smashed against my skull. They didn’t think it was going to fully heal.”

“You have brain damage,” Daniel said and suddenly those things that made Johnny... different... started to make sense. “You might be living with a cognitive disability.”

“Don’t put me on the short bus, LaRusso,” Johnny growled. “Hitting my head didn’t turn me into a moron.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Daniel shot back. “This is serious. Something like this might actually be affecting your day to day functioning. Small things, like your attention span or something.”

“It’s fine! I get by. Now, come on. Let’s set out some mats and pair the kids off for sparring today.”

Daniel didn’t think it was fine, but he dropped the subject. This could explain a lot about Johnny’s personality. The aggression and wild moods, the short attention span, the lack of social awareness. Daniel needed to do some research.

*

“You’ve got your serious face on,” Amanda said as she poured herself a glass of wine before dinner. She poured a second glass for Daniel and set it beside his elbow as she sat down beside him at the table. “What are you up to?”

“Johnny has brain damage.”

Amanda’s eyes went round and she swallowed her wine slowly. “Since when?”

“Nineteen-ninety-six, apparently.”

“Well, that might explain a few things.” Amanda cocked her head. “And the migraine.”

“Look,” Daniel held up his hands in frustration and waved at the laptop screen, “These medical sites, they all list possible long term symptoms, like lack of impulse control, difficulty concentrating, easily distracted.” 

He looked at Amanda for a reaction, so she nodded. “Yeah, sounds like Johnny.”

“And here,” Daniel continued, “it says people who’ve suffered traumatic brain injury have a higher risk of substance abuse, anxiety or depression. This one says it might hinder the ability to organize or process information in the mind - they’re calling it ‘information overload.’ That might be what happened when we tried to do the paperwork for the dojo. I gave Johnny too much information all at once.” Daniel rubbed his hands over his face. “This is just.... I mean, when we were at the hardware store the other day I heard someone call him a dumb blond. I’ve thought the same myself. But this changes things. He’s not dumb, he’s damaged.”

“Okay, Daniel, calm down,” Amanda leaned in and put her hand on his arm. “I know this is a big deal. It affects your working relationship with Johnny, but it’s not something to stress over like this. You can’t fix it for him and you can’t pretend there’s not a problem. We’ve always thought that Johnny is a little off, but now we understand why.”

“So much of the list checks off; disinhibited behavior, lack of emotional awareness, obsessive behavior or repetition. His ability to think is impaired. No wonder he’s been stuck in so many shitty jobs.”

“He opened his own dojo,” Amanda pointed out.

“And he completely mismanaged it,” Daniel sighed. “That’s why he lost it. Handshake deals, forgotten bills, un-filed paperwork.”

“Yes, but, Daniel, he’s functional. Stop defining him by what he can’t do and think of what he can do. He’s good at teaching and karate. He’s good with tools and building things. He thinks outside the box because he can’t work problems out logically.” 

She let Daniel process that for a moment and then held her hands up in an explanatory gesture, “See?” she said, “You each have strengths. Use them to compliment each other. Don’t let Johnny near the paperwork. He likes the physical stuff, so let him do that.”

That’s what Johnny had himself said. Fine, maybe Daniel should have listened to him then. 

*

The next day Daniel went to Miyagi-Do hours before class. He went out to the back and stood in the middle of the yard. He breathed for a few moments and then got into position. As he ran through a kata he imagined that Mr. Miyagi was just inside and would step out any minute to join him. He went through the motions once, then twice. 

Afterward he felt more clear headed about everything; the joint dojo, the paperwork, Johnny’s still undefined cognitive impairment. When he entered the kitchen to brew some tea he stopped and stared at the empty space where the table had been. For a moment his heart lurched. He was used to keeping everything in the house exactly like Mr. Miyagi kept it; a reminder of the man. A shrine, almost. The room looked wrong without the table in its usual spot.

Daniel startled as he heard Johnny’s voice behind him. 

“Oh, you’re early,” Johnny said. 

Daniel turned around to look at him. He was in his usual jeans and flannel combo, but he shifted on his feet and raised his shoulders awkwardly. When Daniel didn’t say anything, he pointed his thumb behind his shoulder, gesturing to the door outside. “Yeah, um... the table. Maybe you can help me get it back in?”

He led the way out and to the Dodge Caravan he’d never returned to the dealership and opened the back door. The back seats had been removed and in their place Mr. Miyagi’s table sat upside down on a folded sheet laid out on the floor. 

“Why did you move the table?” Daniel asked.

“I fixed it,” Johnny said as he gripped two of the legs and slid it out of the car. He flipped it around and stood it on the dirt driveway. The blue pen mark was gone. The top of the table was smooth and newly varnished. “I sanded it all down and refinished it. Good as new.”

Daniel stared at the table. He felt overcome by something indefinable. Maybe they could make this work. Johnny fixed the table. They could fix their dojo. They could fix the mistakes of the past years. 

“Thank you,” Daniel swallowed past the lump in his throat.

Johnny looked uncomfortable. “Jeez, LaRusso. It’s just a table.”

“That’s not–“ Daniel stopped. He didn’t need to explain it. He just needed to meet Johnny in the middle. He took one side of the table and Johnny lifted the other. Together they set it in the kitchen. Then they stood and looked at it. 

“Okay,” Daniel broke the silence. “How about I handle the paperwork and you handle the general maintenance. We’ll work together on lesson plans and we’ll co-teach each class.”

Johnny frowned as if he didn’t quite trust Daniel’s motives. He leaned forward on his feet a little. “That’s what I suggested before. Are you still on about the brain damage thing? I told you, it’s under control.”

“No. It’s– well, yes, it is about the brain damage,” Daniel ran a hand over his face. “I get it now. We have different strengths. I’m better at paperwork, you’re better at physical work. Look, I won’t keep making a big deal out of it, but knowing about your injury makes it easier. It explains why some of your behavior is so annoying and why you can't help that.”

“You think I’m annoying?”

“Yes. Sometimes.”

Johnny smirked. “I’ve always been annoying, LaRusso. Even before the accident.” He gave Daniel’s shoulder an unexpected little shove and Daniel stumbled back. “Get used to it.”

Daniel shook his head and laughed. “Fine. Just another part of your charming personality. Let’s get ready for class.”

*

They didn’t go through their after class routine with their usual efficiency that night. Instead they idled and sat on the backyard porch with a six pack of Coors Banquets that Johnny had stashed in the fridge without Daniel’s knowledge. The sun set and it seemed much easier to talk in the dim light that spilled from the house. 

“Do you notice a difference, since the accident?” Daniel asked.

Johnny tilted his head back and took a long pull of his beer. He sighed. “I don’t know. I was never great in school, but I think I used to understand things easier. Like, it didn’t take five times for people to explain things to me. And people weren’t always giving me looks like I said something wrong or weird.” 

“Yeah, the websites said that socially inappropriate behavior is a side-effect,” Daniel shook his head in sympathy, but then he smiled and nudged Johnny’s shoulder. “I think we’re stuck with it, but the kids seem to like you anyway.”

“Whatever, man,” Johnny chuckled.

They sat looking out at the yard. A few fireflies blinked in the shadows. It was a moment of quiet that felt like a step out of time and into another space where the only important thing was sitting next to Johnny and drinking shitty beer. Daniel wished he could have gotten to know Johnny before. What was the Johnny without brain damage like; the one that grew up after ’84? Was he still this ridiculous? Impulsive? Did he let go of some of that aggression? 

“It just sometimes feels like other people are smart and I’m not,” Johnny broke into Daniel’s thoughts. 

Daniel didn’t know what to say to that. He breathed out heavily and tried to figure out how to answer without putting his foot in his mouth. Finally he settled on, “Some people say it’s better to be smart than to be beautiful. Others say it’s better to be beautiful than to be smart.”

“So... I’m beautiful?”

Daniel huffed a laugh. “For the sake of this conversation, let’s substitute beautiful with badass.”

Johnny’s eyes lit up and he nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, badass. Okay, so what are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Daniel said slowly. “That one isn’t better than the other.”

“So, you think I’m badass?”

“Yeah, Johnny, you’re badass.”

“Cool.” Johnny smiled and popped open his third Coors. “And you’re smart. Amanda’s smarter, but still,” he shrugged, “We can make a good team.”

“Yeah,” Daniel nodded and looked out into the dark and peaceful yard. “Yeah, we can.”


End file.
